Our Timeline
by Sheamaru
Summary: Consider it a time line but don't make it normal. No dates, no numbers and scribbled in little facts that have no relevancy. Better yet, consider it a sheet of staff paper. That's where it begins. Daryan x Klavier
1. Prologue: Dal Segno

**Series/Disclaimer:** Ace Attorney: Apollo Justice which I do not own.  
**Pairing(s):** Klavier Gavin/Daryan Crescend and vice versa.  
**Warning(s):** Swearing. Lots of it. And drama. And sex. This is your warning for the entire extent of this project.

**Summery:** Consider it a time line but don't make it normal. No dates, no numbers and scribbled in little facts that have no relevancy. Better yet, consider it a sheet of staff paper.

Now draw both treble and bass clefs and picture notes. Sporadic and individual, they don't mix at first. But at one point they become harmonious, twirling together to mirror and mimic each other. High notes, low notes and everything in between. Eventually until it gets back to where it started but for now don't worry about that. Worry instead about where a song begins to form...

That's where it begins.

**Author's Note:** Alright, here it is, the prologue to my latest undertaking which is generally but not completely sketched out. Thankfully I have my handy Natalie to help me when I hit stupid blocks and point out my errors.

This story is a set of sequential one-shots featuring Daryan and Klavier. They don't lead together like chapters in one set of time because it jumps around up until...well, you'll see when I get there. **After this prologue, some of the chapters will be uploaded with only the lyrics to a song and a link back to the prologue where the information for this entire thing is. **(This is not true here on for the sake of space and probably a rule somewhere. Instead, at the beginning of each shot I will post the title of a song and the band who sings it. It's up to you whether or not you want to look up the lyrics.)

This prologue may also be updated with any other information I randomly feel necessary to include but won't put with a chapter for the sake of effect.

Beyond this point, I hope you enjoy! x3

--

He wasn't nervous but the memory of Kristoph's voice over the choppy reception of his cell phone was still ringing in his ears like each syllable had been a bomb. It was strange because he couldn't really remember much of the conversation, only the usual effect that it had on him. His elder brother's 'encouragement' was difficult to translate in its own way; it was as though each word was either an explosion that had gone off or one that was going to. What hadn't he done and what would he forget to do.? There was no praise and no regards what he had done right thus far. The second he forgot something, a blast would be set off in the back of his head and he would be fighting tooth and nail to keep control. _It isn't real. Don't try to block it out. It's fine. You're fine._

Deep breath. Another trivial procedure that had never served a purpose except force him to realize his lack of oxygen and make him wonder how long he had been breathing like that. His hands fidgeted with the papers he held but to anyone watching, he knew he looked calm. All through his studies that was his strength; no matter what he was calm outwardly. Inside his brain was reminding him of things that hadn't even happened yet, flitting through everything he had learned at a mile a minute, but to the world he knew everything. This was _his _case.

Then it started. For a few brief moments the proceedings were a blur of words, some of which he was well aware had come from his own mouth. This was his first real trial but they slid off his tongue as though he had been doing this for years. Everyone looked impressed; jury, defense, Judge, bailiff. Everyone. He reached a hand up to run it through blonde hair in a suave manner of brushing off the compliment from the Judge as his eyes scanned the pleased or awed faces of the spectators. They were all eating out of the palm of his hand and he felt like he could have gotten his guilty verdict if he had just asked for it right there.

But that had never really been his style anyway. Not the glitz and glamour - no, that was definitely all his - but simply getting something because it was there to be got wasn't why he had worked for this profession. No, more than anything he felt like his life had been deprived of the truth. The entire world lacked a solid resolution of and he entered this work force to return it to its rightful place on the forefront of life's stage. This world could be built on honesty but it wouldn't be easy; but he was ready. At least, it felt that way until he answered his cell phone that morning.

A burst of approval from his crowd, however, made his confidence physically rise. He'd never been one for playing coy and now wasn't going to be the time he chose to start. All eyes were on him and he was going to give them the real deal. The _real _Klavier Gavin; not what they expected of just any seventeen year old. He'd studied, worked hard, and if nothing else was the younger brother of Kristoph Gavin who had already made a name for himself here. His next stop - this was just a small prerequisite on his travels. And all these people, so mystified and pleased with his mere attitude, would be witnesses to the greatest performance of their lives and a simple stepping-stone of his.

His eyes swept over them one more time, smiling brilliantly at each gaze fixed on him as they watched like he was a new breed lead to show. He swelled with the attention like a balloon yet appeared completely modest. Every smile and nod of approval added to the glamour to the point it nearly blinded him but just before it could he realized it. He realized that he had been wrong.

The defendant, Daryan Crescend, seemed far more occupied with whatever dirt it was that lingered under his fingernails than the debuting prosecutor who really was no older than he. Klavier would estimate he hadn't even given him a second glance since walking into the courtroom. His black hair was long, drifting past his shoulders, and seemed to be the only part of himself that he cared much for. It was brushed neatly and pulled away from his face, a few of the long strands escaping to shield his expression like a curtain from the world. From him. Even though he was only seventeen he looked hardened, yet, that word wasn't completely accurate. Angry. He looked angry; and at something far more than the dirt under his fingernails.


	2. Dexterity

Without a shadow of a doubt, it was strange waking up in a bed. Everything about waking up that morning was strange, actually, but the soft mattress and warm blanket were certainly a large chunk of it. The seventeen-year-old rolled over a few times, unwilling to open his eyes in somewhat stupid fear that the unfamiliar sensations would vanish when he did. While they were closed he could bury his face in the plush pillow under his head, pull the blankets up to his shoulders, and inhale the scent of clean surrounding him. It didn't feel like a dream but it wouldn't have been the first time he woke up to have his hopes kicked in the groin.

Through the haze another of his senses was pulled to life as not so far away the sound of soft singing moved through the halls, leaving Daryan was unsure if it was soothing or freaky. He strained to hear the lyrics and put them to an over played song on the radio but all it served to do was tug him further along the string of consciousness. The lyrics were foreign, an entirely different language that took nothing away from their effect. Within minutes he was able to tack a label to them, pinning the language as German and the voice to a male. Though the singing could have almost passed for a lullaby, Daryan found it urging him to wake rather than fall back asleep.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he yawned, stretching his arms so high above his head that his muscles shook. His body was far more accustomed to waking on a floor that varied in degrees of cold and his brain wasn't far behind that sentiment. Having not yet opened his eyes he reached back and pulled the blanket, still warm from his sleeping body's heat, around his shoulders. Only when he was sure he had a decent grip on it did he opened his eyes which cringed in the light leaking from a nearby window.

Eventually his eyes settled and the world within the room didn't fade away; a promising start to convincing the skeptical brunette that this dream was a reality. The place was clean and organized, but not to that point it looked like no one lived in it. A book was open next to a notebook on the same desk an acoustic guitar case leaned against. Upon further inspection, he found the text in English but the notes in somewhat sharp, but still handwritten, German.

He tightened the blanket he'd wrapped around his shoulders before heading towards the door. More singing danced through it with the closer he approached and his foot had made it out the door before he paused to drop the blanket to the floor. Once again the world seemed cold without the blanket but he was used to it so it didn't cause any vulnerable actions like shivering to surface. Jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he walked down the hall towards the voice, lead along by curiosity alone and as he got closer he could hear the faint, occasional plucking of strings from an acoustic guitar.

Daryan leaned against the opening that lead into the living room, watching the blonde sitting on the couch as he tenderly extracted a note from each string. There was a song loosely woven between the broken chords, unfamiliar but pleasant. He'd just closed his eyes when a sour chord made him flinch and the other curse in German.

"Every time!" There was a brief shuffling of papers before he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

Daryan moved forward with a roll of his eyes, reaching out to snatch the guitar without hesitation or thought. Klavier reached for it in response but was unable to get a decent grip before the other was out of his reach.

"Ah, you're awake and already being rude. You do get an early start," he said, his voice somber and faintly reminiscent of pouting.

"Lemme see that," Daryan flopped on the couch and bent a leg up to place his foot on the table, propping the guitar in his lap. He pointed towards the music that Klavier held in his hands, looking from them to him somewhat curiously.

"You play?"

"No, I just like making an ass of myself by pretending I can play," he replied with a straight face, taking the papers offered to him. He attempted to situate them but when they slipped for the third time he cursed a frustrated sound that blamed the papers for their inability to remain standing. Beside him, Klavier chuckled at his inconvenience before rising and seating himself on the table beside Daryan's bent leg.

"How's this?" He rested his arm on the other's leg and held up the music. Daryan didn't reply but instead situated his fingers on the frets and started a dance across the strings.

Klavier's voice soon rose up along side his playing after the shock of the discovery wore off; Daryan said he could play but what had come from his guitar wasn't what he had been expecting. It wasn't an act of simple practice and playing, there was something raw in his talent. Something inspiring that he had never heard in all his years flitting through the music world. When the song approached that area that he'd had such problems with, he was prepared to curse and explain where he thought the flaw lie but Daryan glided through it, playing entirely by ear and yet capturing the feeling of the German's notes. The vocalist stumbled, lost in a twisted mess that wasn't there for the other who continued to play as though he'd simply ignored that part of the piece. All he could do was watch and listen as the song gradually found its end. His gaze moved from Daryan's hands up to his face only to find it smirking in amusement at his own undoubtedly foolish expression.

"You're an incredible guitarist. How long have you-?"

"Seven years," Daryan shrugged, gently taking the pencil from behind the blonde's ear, "I got free lessons from a shop I worked at."

"Mein Gott, at ten?"

"You do what you have to," he scratched out some of the writing and replaced it with his own. His tone was calm, almost as though he was bored with the questions or was used to being asked about his playing regularly.

"Mm," Klavier agreed, faintly reminded of his own struggles to become a prosecutor at such a young age.

Daryan, however, was twisted in his own musings as he corrected notes and volume changes, occasionally lifting the guitar again to judge the sound. Once in a while, his eyes flicked up to find Klavier watching him play, most of the time finding his focus on the guitar or his hands as he played. So, when he looked up to find Klavier watching _him, his face and expression rather than his fingers, he passed the guitar back. _

"_It's incredible," Klavier noted as he lowered the instrument into its case, "Despite not knowing the words you were able to capture the bare feeling of my song. Or do you speak German too?"_

"_Hardly," he snorted and crossed his arms, having already rose from the couch to drift around the room, "I was following a sheet of music. It isn't that hard."_

"_Nein, Daryan. You made it entirely your own," he smiled, propping the case against the far wall. Behind him, dark blue eyes were once again on him as he moved, watching with suspicion and a certain level distain that wasn't quite equated with hatred. It wasn't something beyond them that couldn't be overcome._

"_You better not be getting all sappy on me, man," he warned, dropping his weight against the wall, "I don't hang with pansy-assed cry babies, you dig?" _

"_Of course not," the blonde chuckled, turning to show a look one might label as 'charming'. Daryan did but not without a bit of disgust at how fake it was in its flawlessness, "Just consider what I said."_

_They both moved for the kitchen, the topic shifting to the milder content of what they should have for lunch. Klavier started listing a variety of foods that the other hadn't even heard of before he suggested they go out. But before he stepped beyond the doorway, Daryan cast another look back at the case leaning near the window. It was stupid…a long shot…but what harm could considering really do anyway? _


	3. Detective

Shot Theme-** "Life of My Own" - 3 Doors Down**

--

Daryan really had nothing against adults - just stupid people as a whole. Not that the Police Chief sitting in front of him was stupid, but he was serving to piss him off which tended to bring the word to mind. Despite Klavier getting him this interview and having put in such a good word for him, everyone had looked at him like he was a criminal today. He'd walked into the department alone, fixed with stares that either mocked him or questioned where the officer was that had picked him up. Wisely no one had chosen to say anything to his face and simply let him find his destination on his own but it was impossible to _un-see _things so he was well aware of their skeptical gazes.. Their opinions didn't mean shit to him, really, but it still pissed him off. Who were they to judge him anyway? He knew more about the law than any of them could ever dream of.

"Listen, Crescend, we're really going out on a limb here with you. But if you really want this then act like it," the elder man said, his voice gruff but not insensitive. He was the caring type, the one that really looked out for his men. _Oh brother_. "Nothing, not where you came from or who pulled what strings to get you here, is going to affect your movement in these ranks. The only thing that matters is _your _attitude."

He brought his bored expression down from the ceiling to look at someone more likely to appreciate it. The look he found was of pure intent and belief; did he actually have faith him? The idea would have made Daryan laugh if he didn't acknowledge it as one of the few that didn't condemn him as a lost cause. Daryan has misinterpreted.

"Capiche?" He stood, offering him a hand across the desk. The male stared at it for a moment as a brief memory of Klavier's hand offered to him in a similar manner overtook his mind. But just because there was honesty in his words didn't mean it would be in his actions down the line.

"I'm not quick to trust words."

The Chief grinned, "You'll make a good detective someday." The compliment threw Daryan for a brief second.

"So I've been told," he smirked, standing up to take the hand seriously in his own.

--

"Aaaargh! Do any of you jackasses know anything about criminals!?" A hand slammed down on the desk encased in a circle of detectives. They had been discussing something, it sounded like a murder connected to a local gang, when Daryan was on his way to wait for his ride. Still wearing the standard-issue uniform, he stood out in comparison to the detectives whose only item linking them to the police were the IDs tucked out of sight. His dark hair was still pulled back from his face which left the dangerous eyes and almost predatory snarl exposed, "How the hell did you get your jobs anyway!? You aren't taking this seriously and someone's already dead!"

"What the hell do you know, rookie?"

"You think you're any better than us?"

"No," Daryan said, withdrawing his stinging hand, "I _know_ I'm better."

Retreating after a line like that wasn't as smooth as they made it look in the movies. They weren't shocked into silence by his statements nor did they yell after him. There was no demand for him to back up his claim and they didn't shout things like 'Yeah! You walk away, punk!'. Those lines were fit for a high school hallway or back alley but not the real world. It was for the better anyway - someone would walk away with something broken if they had.

"What was that all about?"

Daryan flinched and hung his head briefly at the sound of the Chief's voice, "Is that strike three?"

"You've been here nearly a year, Crescend," he chuckled, "You have more strikes than there are people in the force." Daryan opened his mouth but was abruptly silenced, "In this _country_."

"They're idiots who don't have a clue," he rolled his neck as he turned, "I have allergic reactions to stupid, it causes me to demand people remove their heads from their asses." He crossed his arms, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, "Check my file, I'm sure it's on there."

"I wouldn't doubt it. But you're never going to make detective if you keep mouthing off like that," he pointed out, leaning against the wall, "Don't you still have that goal of yours?"

"It's stupid, forget it," he turned to continue towards the doors but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glared at it in the few seconds it took for it to wise up and fall away.

"It isn't stupid. Detective by eighteen is a good aspiration. If anyone's got a shot at it, it's you."

"In two months?" Daryan snorted, "Motivational speeches don't cut it with me, man. Talk is as cheap as ever these days but I'm not in the market for bull."

Gavin's chic, dark purple car pulled around to the front of the station. Even if the doors to the station _hadn't _been see through, Daryan had the feeling anyone would know when the rock-star wannabe pulled up. He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder, "Later."

The Chief of Police shook his head as he watched the pair drive off. _One day that kid will start to believe what he preaches._

--

It was a risky call. He could have been wrong but…no, there was no way. He was right, he had to be. There was no other way for the facts to line up, no other possible answer. _This _was the truth and he'd be damned if he let it slip through his fingers just for the sake of protocol. All that work, those nights reading over files and tracking down people who would kill him for being a cop. It was because of his sheer guts, honesty, and stupidity that they'd let him walk away unscathed. That was _not _all pointless - it had lead to an inconsistency, a fatal one.

The murderer had been killing members of the Kitaki Clan and attempting to pin it on their known rivals, the Rivales. Up until the latest murder, they'd been doing a good job and the Rivales were the only lead the police had. But the latest killing had been off, they'd left a clue that made their next target obvious. Not only was it strange the Rivales would be so sloppy in their work, but they would never have left behind something to point out their next victim. And they would have never targeted the person this killer had. It didn't match and the murders hadn't been rivalry slayings…he was betting his life on it.

"Don't move," his gun was already raised. She was looming over a young boy, probably barely clearing the 'teenager' mark. "Step away from the boy, Ms. Kitaki."

"Don't call me that! I refuse to be associated with that wretched family!" She turned, faster than Daryan had anticipated but not faster than he could react. His finger tightened on the trigger but hers did too. Two screams, one female and one prepubescent, ripped through the air as both met their targets - but Daryan's was mute. The force of his bullet had thrown off her aim and timing.

A bullet that was probably aimed for his chest swung up and wide, tearing into his throat. Even as the shock took over he heard the potential victim's scream trigger the shouts of reinforcements that poured into the room.

--

He slipped in and out of consciousness for an immeasurable amount of time. Faintly he recalled going into an ambulance, people telling him to hold on…but he'd never been good with authority. Most of the time he felt tired and didn't bother to try to stay awake even as people told him he had to. He was light-headed and could barely see, how exactly did they plan on him managing to stay awake? But somehow he didn't feel like he was going to die. Maybe he already had…

The next time he opened his eyes, the room's sheer light made him flinch but an intense pain in his neck halted him. He struggled to move his one hand but it felt warm and heavy, he was curious as to why that was but without the ability to move his neck he decided it'd be smarter to try the other. Might as well use his brain when it occurred to him. Fortunately his other lifted easily enough and his fingertips brushed thick layers of gauze and a particularly raised section on his neck. _Where I got shot…I actually got shot and lived._

"Heh heh heh…" His throat was sore, making laughing the second most painful thing he had tried to do. Something shifted to the side with his heavy hand and he heard movement near the wall at his feet. His soft chuckling had apparently brought the room to life as both Klavier and the Chief entered his limited sight range.

"Ah, you're awake, finally," Klavier smiled, "We were beginning to worry."

"Not me," the Chief laughed, "I knew you'd pull through."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure I wouldn't kick it?" Daryan vaguely noticed that some, but not all, of the warmth had disappeared from his arm. Klavier's felt warm in comparison to his, reminding him just how close to death he must have come, "I sure as hell didn't feel any obligation to stay awake when they told me to."

"All work and no reward? It's hardly your style, Daryan," Klavier said, cutting off his rebuttal before Daryan even opened his mouth. People seemed to have a talent for that, he noted, "Saving Herr Fox Junior would not be enough to sate you."

He chuckled again, struggling to ignore the pain in his neck, "You're right. I'm not that noble…"

"No," the elder cop said, "But you are smart and brave. Though that might just be because of your own stupid recklessness." He moved to the injured teen's side and held out a slip of paper, only the size of a note card.

"7202602?" Daryan looked up at him, "What the hell is this?"

"Your ID number," he grinned, "You'll need it when you fill out the form for your new one, Detective Crescend."

The other was silent for a few moments, looking at the piece of paper that meant he'd achieved his goal. Still with a week left until his birthday too. A flood of morbid irony overcame him as he took note of his physical condition. He hadn't died…maybe he was paralyzed? No, he could move his arms and felt his toes under the warm blankets. It took every ounce of his physical and mental strength not to laugh at this entire set up, the victim of circumstance he'd had to become to earn a slip of paper that guaranteed his goal. It was pathetic…sick…

"So it takes getting shot in the throat to make it anywhere in this world?" A grin of dangerous but excited intent overcame him in place of the laughter that shook his brain. He crushed the paper in his fist, "I was made for this business."


	4. Deal

The other members of the Gavinners must have been tuning their instruments for the third time tonight as they waited for the three minute song by the other band to finish. Daryan was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching. They were playing one of the big clubs right off the start - courtesy of pulled strings by their vocalist. But he was quite the opposite to the rest of the band's unease - his only concern was if the stereo-equipment here could handle it. He ran his fingers over the strings of his new guitar, amusingly but affectionately named 'Geeter'; it had been an expensive investment but he'd been getting annoyed with playing Klavier's acoustic which wouldn't have cut it in a rock band anyway. Not that there was anything wrong with it but he wanted his own and he wanted it to be loud and when the topic of forming a band had come up he couldn't stand the idea of borrowing one of his electrics too.

"Ready, Daryan?" The blonde asked, emerging from the small, make-shift dressing room that the band shared. While the club was fairly upscale the group was far from a real concert stadium tonight. Their 'dressing room' was little more than a slightly extended janitor's closet with two mirrors and an old couch. Daryan found little point in using it since any idiot would have known to come properly dressed and he had never been one to fidget with details in the mirror for hours.

"As I'll ever be," he smirked, shifting his attention from the other band members to their vocalist, "Could you have picked a more self-absorbed name?"

He laughed, "Be glad you're not a Gavinette, ja?"

"You'd be down a guitarist, man."

He filled the space on the wall beside the detective, one hand resting on his hip and his head tilted back. It was their first big show but he felt nothing of nervousness or anxiety; he wasn't sure he'd ever really felt those emotions in his life, really. He was calm and confident in not only himself but his band. They were unconventional to say the least; between him and Daryan as the front-runners there had been no need for auditions. A Gavinner was instinctive, something they could feel when meeting the person; these guys were the best of law enforcement and would be the best of the music world soon.

He only wished everyone would feel the same.

It was true they weren't running around like a teenage band with ADD that had no knowledge of how things worked, but they weren't relaxed either; they were on edge about their first performance and questioning themselves. Things that shouldn't have been a problem when considering their daytime occupations had the same requirements. You would never get away with approaching criminals so jumpy and unsure of yourself - a crowd was not an entirely different being in that sense. They had been performing together for six months and all agreed they were ready for a real gig. They would take it from there.

Well, today was 'there' and it was time to make it or break it. There were at least two votes in the 'make it' column and it was nice not to have his tally stand alone.

Klavier pushed himself away from the wall after a few minutes, walking towards the edge of the backstage hallway to peer out into the crowd, "That's the tenth time you've done that."

"Hmm?"

Daryan nodded his head towards the crowd through the wall, "Looked out at the crowd. You worried about something?"

The blonde chuckled, walking back across the hall and tugging on his bangs lightly to let them slip through his fingers. He'd started growing his hair out recently, the detective noted as the vocalist fell back against the wall beside him, "Hardly. Just making sure our audience is ready for us."

"Ten times," Daryan said in sarcastic belief and quirked a brow, "Are you hiding something from me?"

He looked back to Daryan, mouth poised for an answer that probably would divert the question, but the manager came back to briefly usher them on stage and they left the wall behind. Stepping out onto the stage, they swiftly replaced what needed to be replaced as a popular song occupied the crowds attention. With everything in place, Klavier gave a nod to the DJ and the recorded mix stopped, leaving a void to be replaced by them. The prosecutor's fingers snapped, giving the rest of the band their rhythm and timing - beyond that it was up to them.

It kicked off with Daryan, a security measure should the rest of the band happen to freeze as Klavier was most confident in his abilities. But as his brief solo ended, they far from disappointed and each cue was matched not in a manner that followed Daryan's lead but that took it for themselves. Klavier's voice rose, his hand-written lyrics embraced without flaw by the melody. It was the final touch. Whether the crowd listened for substance or listened for sound, there music was non-discriminatory.

They hit a slow rift in the song with a mellow bass and light drum that continued to guide Klavier's voice. If it were possible, the crowd might have seen the notes carrying the words from his throat. Daryan was pretty sure he saw a few lighters in the back as he purposefully wandered further towards the stage ledge where Klavier stood. With a jump up to the fast tempo, Gavin rose from the stylish dip he'd been holding the microphone in and turned gracefully. It quite seemed he'd done it too hard and would stumble back with his own force but his back collided with Daryan's for support and effect. The originals, back-to-back, vocalist and guitarist; the heart of the Gavinners.

The audience roared, almost eclipsing the sound of the band despite the blaring speakers.

_Thirteen years of hard time_

_Thirteen years for love_

_Baby, I may have committed the crime_

_But for you I will never give up_

_No for you I will never_

_Give up!_

There was no dwindling down for 'Thirteen Years Hard Time for Love', it finished with a blast from each instrument that left the crowd demanding more. If one judged by that alone then they weren't playing a city club, they were rocking out in a concert hall that was theirs alone. Fans…witnesses…to the first of a successful round of concerts crowded the stage. Their hands stretched, reaching towards them like they were Holy beings and a simple touch would gift them with a tiny fragment of their musical talent. It was almost enough to make Daryan laugh.

He hung back, enjoying the thrill as Klavier caved in to their reaching. He watched the blonde, almost paranoid that someone would pull him out of sight into the crowd. But his nerves were on fire and his heart thudded so heavily in his chest that it was hard to breathe. It was an impossible feeling to place…stepping out onto the stage hadn't hindered him but now pure excitement was jolting through his system like he'd chugged an energy drink laced with lightning. Eventually they had to sacrifice the crowd to the band after them and he left the stage with Klavier smiling at his side..

"Achtung! That was excellent! Better than could have been predicted," his words only served to kick off the buzz spreading through the other five members. Even Daryan was forced to openly acknowledge the exhilaration as he packed up Geeter and headed towards the car with Gavin. Just beyond the exit they were stopped briefly by a few fans that had broken off from the crowd for autographs.

It was as the last of them dispersed that he noticed a certain German missing from his side. He turned as the rest of the band walked off, finding the person holding the keys to his ride lingering near the entrance to the backstage. At first he didn't notice Klavier's lips moving, directing words towards a person that was hidden behind the large, gray door; then Klavier laughed in that way Daryan almost always wanted to label 'sleazy' despite the inaccuracy of the word. The door closed and he stopped his advance, fixing a hand on his hip and leaning as the other headed towards him.

"What was that all about?"

"Hmm? Daryan? What are you still doing here?"

A look of disbelief crossed his features, "Tell me you're kidding - you're my ride, man."

"I know that," he chuckled. It seemed a lot more sincere than that laugh at the door had been, "I just thought you had gone to the car already."

"Oh…" he blinked, pausing long enough that the other brushed passed him, "That still doesn't answer my question."

"That was just a little business," he said, bringing up a hand to run it through his short hair, "Nothing to worry about."

"Hey!" Daryan's hand closed on his shoulder while spinning the other around. A ringed finger jabbed sharply into his chest beside the 'G' pendant, "I'm sick of all this sneaking around you've been doing! I'm half of what started this band, Gavin. Stop leaving me in the dark, _'specially _if it comes to our music."

Klavier paused, seeming vaguely shocked by his friend's sudden show of force; but it didn't last long. Even in the short time they'd known each other, Daryan hadn't seemed capable of genuinely shocking him. It was as though everything he did and said was completely predictable…but only to him; no one else seemed to get it. "I thought you might say something like that," he sighed but it wasn't without the return of his smile. He passed over a piece of paper that Daryan had completely missed in his hand.

His dark eyes flicked over the words after he unfolded it, adjusting the strap of Geeter's case on his shoulder, "A recording session?"

"It's just for a single - the song we played tonight. But depending on how that sells…" his voice trailed off with implication of the positive nature.

"You got an agent to come tonight? It was our first show!"

"Make it or break it, ja?"

It was usually all too easy to get frustrated when staring into that disgustingly sweet smile; it always seemed to be mocking people. As though Klavier always knew something that they didn't. Being fixed with that look of cool conceit ignited something in him every time; most often something angry. But not tonight. Tonight he threw an arm around Klavier's shoulders and jerked him close, laughter forcing his features into a smile.

"Man! You're one cocky guy!" he grinned, "So that's why you kept looking out into the crowd like you thought someone was going to shoot you on stage."

"I don't think I looked _that _paranoid," Klavier replied with a very light hint of defensiveness to his tone, but a smile still graced his features, "And I prefer to think of it as 'confident'."

"Well, whatever you call it, it works." Daryan slipped away from the other to carefully place Geeter in the back of the purple car and slid into the passenger seat. Klavier had just moved to push the key into the ignition when a hand caught his wrist, making his eyes find Daryan's face through the darkness. His features had gone from amused to serious abruptly, the effect enhanced by the fact their only light source was a not-so-flattering parking lot light looming over the car.

"Daryan?"

"Don't leave me out of this kind of stuff anymore," he said. His voice wasn't threatening, far from it really. Daryan had never threatened him seriously. In joke, perhaps, but the easily irritated detective hadn't so much as raised a fist to him in play; a feature Klavier was sure many people would find surprising based on his usual exterior.

"Ja-"

"I mean it, Gavin. I'm half of what started this band, don't forget that."

The blonde was forced to pause, trying to make out the other's dark eyes through the meager light provided. The eyes being 'windows to the soul' never applied to anyone more than it did Daryan and the detective knew it; he'd heard that he had 'honest eyes' more times in his life than he could recall. Daryan probably sensed it and released his wrist, resuming a face of laughter that shielded his eyes from Klavier's investigation. Within seconds the engine came to life and Daryan was looking out the window, talking of their potential future if the single took off with an excited grin…acting as though that brief conversation had been spliced in after the night had long since passed.


	5. Determined

Everything in the apartment was relatively calm even though the floor looked like a war-zone of clutter and faint arguing leaked into the atmosphere from the small vent hidden behind the television stand. Outside, rain drummed softly against the windows and made the unusable rhythm one would expect of nature. It had been raining steadily for the past couple of days but thankfully it hadn't been symbolic of anything - except maybe the foul mood of the man occupying the apartment's couch. His long legs were sprawled across it in a way that looked awkward but was actually comfortable if you settled into it right. A half eaten pen was being ground mercilessly between his teeth as he scanned over the text balanced on his chest and yet again he was reminded why he never bothered with school.

"Fuck studying, fuck Noser, fuck tests…" he cursed as he underlined a sentence that seemed like it should have been important. The phone ringing broke through the silence and provided him with an excuse to leap up, dropping the book where it rightfully belonged in the clutter to begin the hunt of finding his cell phone. A plastic pick holder ground into his foot, earning itself a curse as he scooped up the blue and black hunk of plastic that was nearing the end of his ring tone, "What?"

There was no answer on the other end for a few minutes before a pleasant though suspicious voice finally spoke up, "You didn't just mute the television, did you?"

"It's off, Gavin. Just like it was when you left at lunch and took my remote control with you," Daryan said, gritting his teeth venomously. He didn't really need the remote and he knew it, but something about getting off the couch whenever a commercial came on was really unappealing. Besides, nothing good was on anyway.

"…Geeter?"

"In his case." He cast a look over his shoulder towards the abandoned guitar as though seeing it himself would be enough verification for Klavier.

"…your cell phone?"

"Aren't phone games just a bit…kiddish?"

"…"

"It goes instantly to my voice mail if I'm playing games on it," he explained with a defeated sigh, "Are you talking to my voice mail right now, Gavin?"

"Nein."

"So that probably means I wasn't playing games on my phone."

"Someone else's phone?"

"Gavin!" Daryan walked back over to the couch, kicking his pick case under the living room table to prevent further hindrance in those rare occasions he decided to move. He fell back with a slight 'oomph', his brow furrowing as his boyfriend heaved a sigh of his own. Faintly he wondered what right _Klavier _had to sigh when he was the one stuck in his apartment studying like a high-school kid with someone calling to check on his non-existent ADD every hour.

"…court will be over in an hour or two. I'll stop by to see how your studying is going then, ja?" he sounded far too pleased with this plan.

Daryan idly ran his fingertip along the edge of the page like a person that absently tries to give themselves a paper-cut despite knowing the pain involved in it, "Alright."

"You don't seem enthusiastic about my dropping by," Klavier's voice was even despite this fact but the end flickered with the dull gleam of potential hurt. It was a very dull gleam.

"Heh," Daryan stretched his free arm along the back of the couch, "I don't know. Your presence is pretty distracting, Gavin." His voice was delicately coated in promiscuity, "I think I'll end up studying _something_ useful…but not for the test."

There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the phone before he spoke up, "…you'll study your text, Daryan. I'll be bringing my latest work." His voice was lifted with a coy smile but it wasn't even close to the kind of coy Daryan wanted to be hearing.

"Urrgh," he groaned in audible defeat of being shut down so quickly by just two words, "Yeah, yeah."

'Latest work' referred only to the most current Gavinners song that Klavier had been working on between his cases. Those two words were the bane of Daryan's sex life with the vocalist because Klavier was persistent with his focus on those songs to the point he lost track of the world around him. Considering Daryan was part of that world, it made it very hard for the guitarist to get anywhere with him; even in conversation. If he was bringing over his latest piece of music then it was no joke that the detective would be doing nothing but studying.

"I'll see you around four," he finished and hung up. Daryan sat with his cell-phone in his hand, staring at the screen until it went black before tightening his fingers around it as though he was tempted to crush it.

He sighed after a few minutes, letting the cell fall to the couch cushion beside him and turning back to the book in his lap. It would be a gift to say that time passed quickly until Klavier showed up but it seemed like every time he looked over at the time on his phone an maximum of five minutes had passed. More that once it occurred to him to turn on the television and put in a movie but last time he had tried Klavier had called and the first words from his lips had been 'Turn off the television, Daryan'. It was hard to say if he heard it or not, but to him it didn't seem like there was nearly enough time for him to have heard the television through the phone.

Eventually the door opened and he quickly picked up the book that he'd let fall over his face in an attempt to fall asleep. He lowered it slightly, peering at Klavier over top of the pages as the rock-star pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the arm of the couch. Before he could look up, Daryan was already looking back at the words and pretending to read them even going so far as to turn a page.

"How's the studying going?" He crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch to peer down at his boyfriend.

"Six hours. _Six_." he said, frowning at his book in place of the other's face, "No human should be forced to read for that long. 'Specially not something so boring."

"They should if they want to keep their job." He straightened up, tucking his hands into his pockets and turning into the kitchen.

"Where the hell did you even get this thing?" Daryan asked, sitting up to watch Klavier retreat.

"Where most people get books, Daryan," he replied, pulling a bottle of water from the library along with a brown bottle of alcohol, "The library."

"Ha-fucking-ha."

The blonde walked back into the room, offering the beer to Daryan who accepted it gratefully and slouched, propping one foot up on the table. They watched the black televisions screen for a few minutes before Klavier spoke up again, "Do you have confidence in your ability to take the test?"

"If you have to ask I'm wondering why we're in a relationship," Daryan replied, the pad of his pointer finger tapping against the bottle, "And if you've been replaced with a body double."

"Seriously, Daryan." Klavier turned to him now, a frown on his face that always inclined this his patience was farther in the negatives than he could handle and was now willing to show it, "Your sarcasm gives me no reassurance that you're ready."

"Then what the hell gave you the 'reassurance' to suggest me for the job five years ago?" Narrowed eyes turned sharply to Klavier, fitting him with the full weight of his anger at the blatant disregard for his ability.

"That wasn't what I meant-"

"Then what _did _you mean?" he stood up, gesturing slightly with his occupied hand towards the other, "Because if you don't have any confidence in me by now then I don't know what to tell you."

Klavier sighed, rubbing at the bridge between his eyes as though his 'deal with this calmly, rationally, without emotion' glands had swollen shut and he was trying to get them working again, "I do have confidence you. I wouldn't have gotten you the interview if I hadn't. Myconfidence in your _abilities_ isn't the issue here."

"Then what is? And don't try to tell me it's personal; I'm good and I fucking know it."

"Yes, Daryan, you're good on the field. The best, even. But what about on paper?"

"What about it?" Daryan snarled, "The law isn't paper, Gavin! It's people, events, things that are happening _out there_. Why should a piece of paper be the thing to dictate whether or not I know what's going on in the real world? What can it prove?"

Klavier hesitated, not at the question because it didn't particularly shock him but Daryan could feel that shift in the air. The shift that the blonde always got in the courtroom when someone fell into his perfect trap. Whatever he had said was exactly what Klavier wanted to hear from the beginning and he didn't hesitate to figure out his answer. His pause was due to an entirely different reason, one so simple that Daryan would have kicked himself for it were he not so irritated and so unwilling to blame himself.

His eyes narrowed, "Fuck this." He used what little reign left he had on his self control and set the bottle down on the table before heading towards his room. Klavier stood up, not quite poised to follow yet at the same time his muscles strained in just such a tenseness.

"Daryan-"

"No!" he shouted, standing up straight to turn on the one lingering near his couch. The straps of a blue sports bag were clenched in his fist as he pointed at him, "This isn't just a job to me, Gavin. Being a detective is my life - or at least a damn big chunk of it. I'm not about to let some nosey little punk cut into that just because I didn't fill in the bubble next to Option A five years ago. I _earned _where I am. I have the hospital records to prove it."

"And you don't think I know that?" he frowned, "Who does the disrespect of underestimation fall on now?"

"I'm going out." He said it so straight forward it was as though he thought that were a genuine and perfectly fitting answer to the question. He bypassed Klavier without resistance or movement to stop him for two reasons; Klavier knew he wasn't drunk and he knew where he was going.

Inwardly the blonde flinched just slightly as the door slammed shut, but visibly he only fell back onto the couch while his eyes rested on the offending book laying beside him.

--

_Twenty eight…_

_Twenty nine…_

_Thirty._

Daryan surfaced properly from the clear pool water, folding his arms on the wall as his lungs angrily reminded him that he was not a fish. Between the brief shower before jumping in and the chlorine water itself, his hair had fallen from it's usually stiff style quite easily. The mass of black strands swirled around him, suspended by the gentle water molecules like an extending aura from his body. Bleached tips that usually formed something of a star when he styled his hair were now hard to see in the prisms of blue that the pool walls created.

Pressing his palms flat to the cool stone, he pushed himself up out of the water and felt the thick weight fall against his back. The very ends of it brushed just an inch or so above the waist of his blue swim trunks and he pulled it over his shoulder to ring it out as he walked towards the diving boards on the other end of the pool. There was no one there so it was silent aside from his own wet footsteps and the softening sound of disturbed water from the thirty laps he had just completed.

He shoved his hair back over his shoulder as he climbed the short ladder leading to the diving board. Personally, he'd never been very big with heights and so the high jump wasn't his goal; but he found comfort and pride in the second of the boards in the pool. It was only about ten feet off the surface of the water but he wasn't a professional diver…just a guy that liked to blow off steam. Preferably in ways that didn't involve punching people or objects that were close to him.

His lungs filled with air in the brief seconds before he was again submerged in the water. It was cold when he'd first arrived but his body adjusted, making the air outside of it seem unpleasant and chilled now. He swam all the way to the bottom, brushing his fingers along the tile before turning to kick back towards the surface. As he kicked his chest ached, compelling his body to swim harder and push away the offending water that kept him from the oxygen above him. Even though the water was less offending to his now soaked body, he still needed to breathe in the end.

Water filled him with a new sort of energy and yet served to make him more calm than anything he could think of. Allowing himself to float for a few minutes, soon he started maneuvering his arms in a back stroke and kicked his legs without much intent except to feel them moving through the water. To gauge the muffled sound of it as his ears were plugged with the surrounding moisture and stare at the ceiling wearing the same scowl he had come here to be rid of.

Everyone knew he was good at what he did so why did a piece of paper matter so much? It wasn't even like it mattered to the entire division, just that one pathetic person. There was no incentive for him to be so hard on Daryan and yet…the instant he'd found out he'd practically petitioned to have him take the test. Though, it couldn't have been a petition because if it had been no one would have signed it. He was the department's legitimate prodigy, the first in a long time that wasn't a prosecutor. His best work was on the field, protecting people and cracking cases based on intuition and skill. A test wouldn't prove that, it _couldn't_.

His hands found the edges of the pool wall and he turned, hoisting himself out of the water and walking over to the benches to wrap a dark blue towel around his waist. He headed towards the locker room where his bag sat open and alone in the corner of a row of lockers. His hand closed around a travel size container of conditioner before dropping off the towel, migrating to the showers to rinse the chlorine from his body and hair. The dry strands, loaded with product all day and then subject to chlorine poisoning appreciated the conditioner; though the entire bottle had to be used to due to the sheer length and amount of it.

He was supposed to be at the precinct at eight to take the test, leaving him with a little time to waste. The idea of returning to his apartment was far from appealing knowing that Klavier would be sitting there, waiting with that look in his eye. Daryan had to resist the urge to punch the locker he was near at the thought of it and wrestled a shirt on as well as his hoodie. Stuffing the remaining articles in his bag he headed for the door, slamming it open with unintentional strength.

--

Even after finishing the test he was against heading back to his apartment, though there wasn't much he felt like doing. The urge for a beer came over him but bars weren't places he usually cared to be; particularly so late in the evening on a Friday. While Klavier may have suggested that being around people in such 'pleasant' moods would have helped his own; he didn't _want _to be in a pleasant mood right now. He didn't want to be thinking about what Klavier would have suggested either but that was a part of his brain he found he couldn't block out.

It was ten-thirty so the pool was already closed which left walking the only conceivable thing he could do. He stopped in a convenient store for a six-pack, taking one before passing the rest off to some stranger who looked like he could use it. The behavior was strange, granted, but he'd gone so far as to card the guy before handing it over so the fact he was getting free beer was likely to make the entire thing seem like a dream. Daryan couldn't help but laugh as he walked away.

After finishing it, he tossed the bottle into a near by trash can and decided that home was the only place left to go. There wasn't any hopefulness in the idea that Klavier might have left his apartment, he knew the blonde better than that, but he felt like he'd at least be able to last fifteen minutes without picking up an argument based simply on his bad mood.

He pocketed his keys after finding his apartment door was unlocked and walked in to find the rocker lounging on his couch. A Gavinners concert took up his television screen in the brief seconds before it was shut off as serene eyes found him in the doorway.

"Hey," he was aware of how tired he sounded and hoped that Klavier could pick up on it too. For the sake of the rest of their evening.

"Feeling better?"

"Is there really any point in asking that?"

Klavier chuckled, "Let me rephrase; are you feeling less anxious now that it's over?"

Daryan fell over the arm of the couch and pushed himself up, resting his head against the other's thigh and looking up at him, "I guess."

"Good." He smiled, that brief genuine smile that Daryan hardly ever saw used in public. It wasn't charming and it wasn't hiding anything, there was no mask…just a smile.

His hand moved up, combing easily through soft bangs and curving his fingers around the other's head to pull him down. The position wasn't comfortable and he knew it, so he didn't strain to make it last, but his lips found Gavin's with firm resolve and he deepened it in an instant. He was never a flighty kisser; if he was going to kiss then it would be deep and passionate. There was more emotion found in exploring someone's mouth than there was lingering on their lips.

Slowly he pulled away, draping an arm over Daryan's chest more for the sake of his own comfort than anything else. Daryan frowned firmly at the ceiling, "I'd feel better about it if I had the results."

"Oh?" Klavier shifted a bit and something fell onto Daryan's face, "You mean the ones the Chief of Police dropped off a half an hour ago?"

"He what!?" Daryan sat up, yanking the envelope from his face and ripping at the paper with fervor, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I assumed the answer to that would be obvious," he said in subtle reference to their kiss. But Daryan didn't respond. By this point he had gotten the envelope open and his eyes were scanning over the words with intent. In the settling silence, Klavier was forced to realize his own bit of worry and though he tried to remain patient it quickly ran out, "What does it say?"

Daryan hesitated, reading over the words again to make sure he completely understood them before turning so he face Gavin, "I'm…being transferred."

"What?" Klavier frowned. He was familiar with the word in a general term but all the conclusions he came to seemed to lead to either a demotion or Daryan moving away - neither of which option he was willing to settle for, "Where?"

"International Affairs."

"Where is that!?" He didn't shriek and the raising of his voice was so subtle it was hard to tell that it had happened at all. In such situations Klavier was actually quite calm but he realized that if Daryan was moving away that would surely force the Gavinners to break up as well.

"Two floors up from where I am now," he said, a look of amusement crossing his face, "Worried about having to handle an extra two flights of stairs?"

"W-What?" This information was quite surprising to the youth who was beginning to believe that Daryan was making the entire thing up. He reached for the paper, finding it rather easy to get a hold of as they didn't fiddle with their usual game of 'keep away'.

"The test proved that I'd be better suited for the international cases given to Division 3," he explained, "The scope is broader but it breaks down further. Instead of just focusing on L.A law they think I could handle the big stuff; other countries' laws and the relationship between them and us."

The paper in his hands didn't say any of what Daryan had just described; it simply said that he had passed and was being moved to Division 3 if he didn't raise any objections the next time he went into work. But Daryan explained it with utmost precision and in the usual voice he took when addressing things relating to his work. He could flick between Detective Crescend and Daryan so quickly that it was slightly boggling even to Klavier, who had known him for so long.

"And this…means what?"

"Another zero on my paycheck and more files on my desk," he smirked, "I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you're so disappointed about."

"Nein," he replied, his voice suddenly curving with laughter, "I'm relieved."

"I can't wait to shove this in Noser's face on Monday," he leaned back against the couch, propping his feet up on the table. Conceit and pride were smeared across his face with extreme joy at being able to rub his transferal in his co-workers face tomorrow; but at the back of his mind he conceded to Klavier's sentiment with two words. _Me too. _


	6. Date

**This one actually comes _before _Determined.**

--

Klavier snapped his mobile phone closed and set it tentatively on the edge of the giant speaker he used for the desk in his office. He didn't look particularly agitated save for a slight furrow of his brow and a soft frown curving on his lips. But from across the room Daryan could tell he was frustrated and he hadn't even been listening to the conversation. The prosecutor had been on the phone when he showed up for a lunch meeting, not uncommon between the two of them when they weren't overloaded with work. He'd taken up a seat in the massage chair while he waited, scooping up an acoustic to strum the latest piece of Gavinners music. As he watched he decided that, were he a more violent person, the blonde probably would have kicked the desk with the way he was looking at the phone.

"Case gone sour?"

He hesitated which served to be the only inclination to his slight surprise at finding Daryan in his office. "Nein," he sighed.

"Girl?" He watched him stroll over to the side of the room he'd been occupying, tucking his hands neatly in his pockets.

"Out of my chair, if you'd please," he smiled as he paused beside the large black chair. Daryan slid out of it, never being good with that smile that always seemed fake and reminded him of a psychopath. Klavier was the only person he considered sane that was able to go from an expression of irritation to one of pleasantries so quickly. Truthfully, he was pretty sure he had to convince himself of his friend's mental stability sometimes. The blond sank into it while flipping a switch to start the inner mechanisms and it let out a low hum, "Another fan that wants everything glamorous of me and little more."

"Poor baby," Daryan mocked with a roll of his eyes and tilted the guitar against the chair. As he caught his reflection in the window he ran his hands along the neatly styled pompadour extending from his head. It hadn't been easy to achieve with how long his hair was but he'd managed quite well and though initially shocked, throughout the week he had been styling it daily and people had formed a general consensus that it suited him. Since the success of the Gavinners, he'd made a lot of changes - hair and wardrobe were just parts of it, "What do you expect when you date fans?"

"Perhaps one in the masses that's different from the others."

"You're being too optimistic, man," he turned, putting a hand on his hip, "Fans are only after two things; glamour and reputation."

"You're too harsh, Daryan," he cracked open a blue-green eye.

"Realistic," he replied, glancing out the window at the Lost Angeles streets below. _God, I hate heights_, he shook his head slightly to dislodge the image and looked back to Klavier before his stomach could tighten the knot it had started.

"What are you proposing?"

Daryan chuckled, "I don't _propose _things, Gavin." He dropped his hand and walked over to the chair, "Let's go out."

"Oh?" Klavier smiled, "When?"

"Your phone call ran long. I have to get back to work," he took his eyes from the clock hanging on the wall behind the chair, "You owe me a lunch date."

"Tomorrow then, ja?" But Daryan was already heading towards the door.

"Don't bring your wallet," he waved a hand over his shoulder and let the door fall closed.

--

When he turned nineteen, Daryan moved out of Klavier's place to settle into one of his own - he'd never been big on letting people take care of him and the year and a half it had taken him was more than long enough. Their apartments weren't on opposite sides of the city, but it seemed stupid to move out of he was going to live right next door. The place he'd picked wasn't as well-to-do as Klavier's, but it was a lot better than the ditch he had predicted he'd be lying in three years ago.

"Your apartment?" Klavier inquired, surveying the familiar building as he was guided forward by fingers so loosely entwined his it would be hard to say they were holding hands, "You don't plan on ordering pizza, do you? That stuff is revolting…"

"Give me some credit," he rolled his eyes, extracting his keys from a pants pocket without releasing Klavier's hand, "That plan has already been tried and failed."

"Ja, I remember." There was little fondness of the memory in the prosecutor's voice.

The door opened and the two passed by mailboxes and a plastic fern on their way to the elevator; a contraption that Daryan wish had never been invented.. He only lived on the third floor but he was constantly trying to seize a lower apartment; still, it was far better than the seventh floor he had started on.

"You seem to be in a hurry," Klavier noted, watching the lights jump numbers as the ascended the floors. To him, Daryan's conflict with heights was amusing as he had taken multiple international trips and had kept both an apartment and office on high floors. "Normally you're not so fond of elevators."

"Don't remind me, man," he said, successfully managing to keep his stride calm as they left the metal box. Klavier chuckled.

There was no rhyme or reason to Daryan's process of organization; probably because the detective had never bothered to learn the meaning or point of the word. Geeter's case, not entirely zipped shut, sat in a large, black armchair with music books and folders of Gavinner's songs littering the floor around it like a shrine. While his television was not one of those ridiculously large models, it was bigger than a reasonable size but still wasn't nearly large enough to hold the collection of horror movies and concerts on DVD that spilled to the floor in stacks. There were no hallways, but two doors on the right wall lead to the bathroom and Daryan's equally unkempt bedroom. An open section of wall across from the door lead to the kitchen, which seemed to be their destination with the way Daryan began to navigate the junk.

His hand tightened a bit on Klavier's, as though readying himself for the other's fall as he struggled not to trip on the objects covering the floor. For some reason the usual route behind the couch seemed cluttered and Klavier took note to buy Daryan a desk sometime as files marked "Confidential Police Information" stared up at him. Thankfully they were able to make it to the kitchen without injury, though the blonde looked back as though he were expecting the clutter to transform into a monster before his very eyes, "You're lack or organization is as profound as ever."

"It's a gift." His hand slipped free of Klavier's as he crossed the room, letting him find the circular table on his own where he usual array of silverware, minus a spoon for each set, sat on its surface. He crossed his legs after taking a seat, dropping the provided napkin over his lap just as a plate was placed in front of him.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the alluring smell he quirked a brow up at the brunette, "You cook now?"

"It's not that hard," he smirked, already pleased now that he was sure it hadn't burned in the time it took to get Klavier here, "Water okay?"

"Yes," he watched Daryan pull two bottles out of the fridge, "Not having beer?" He didn't bother to hide the mild surprise at his friend's selection. Daryan was hardly an alcoholic but he'd regularly been keeping beer in the house since he'd turned twenty-one. It was one of the less favorable ways he chose to deal with stress.

"I have to go back to work, you know," he tossed a bottle to Klavier and twisted the cap off his own, "They don't really approve of alcohol-breath while we're on duty."

"Ah, how foolish of me," he lowered the bottle from his lips.

The meal was surmised of chicken and pasta, normally something Klavier would have found too filling for lunch but he conveniently hadn't had so much as a stick of gum all day. Daryan seemed confident in his cooking and didn't hesitate to start eating nor did he ask his date's opinion. Watching him absently from across the small table, the prosecutor noted it wasn't even confidence so much as a total lack of concern. He could have said almost anything and it would have been disregarded.

But there was nothing bad to be said for Daryan's cooking anyway. It surpassed both 'bad' and 'alright' by a quite a few strides, yet wasn't so ridiculously delicious that he would have suggested a career in the culinary arts. The food certainly beat out Daryan's previous methods on their lunch dates; and it only took him the _fourth_ try.

"Why on earth did you try to feed me pizza and Chinese before this?" Klavier asked after properly swallowing the last piece of chicken on his plate and taking a drink from the bottle in hand.

Daryan shrugged as he held out his plate, waiting for Klavier's to rest on top of his properly to be taken to the sink, "Might as well try the easy route first. Though you managed to make those routes anything _but _easy."

"It reaped a fine reward though." He rose, crossing the room to find a place beside the sink to lean against, "I hope you'll consider cooking for me again sometime-"

"M-"

"Ah," he brought a hand up to silence the other, "Without making it a last resort, ja?"

Daryan rolled his eyes and turned, pressing his back to the counter and crossing his arms in his usual manner of brushing things off, "Sure."

"Good."

"_Maybe."_

Soft lips briefly pressed against his when Klavier moved away from the counter beside him. There were no other touches as the prosecutor's hands were already burrowed into his pockets and he pulled away quickly and without a clever word or wink to accompany one of his rare, genuine smiles. The brunette considered going after him, pulling him back despite the success of the man's plan to elude him. He wanted to pull him back just for the sake of trying to persuade him to stay for a bit, that the office could do without him for another hour. But by the time he had settled on his choice of action, the door to his apartment was already closed.


	7. Desperate

**Pairing: **Daryan Crescend/Klavier Gavin  
**Warning: **Sexual things. Themes. Goings on. The fun stuff.

**Author's Note: **Well, you all had to have seen it coming eventually. This chapter contains Kristoph! Yes, the infamous other Gavin. I spent a long time discussing this with Nat and she read it over for me to make sure he wasn't horribly out of character. There are so many theories on this guy and his relationship with his brother that there is no way I could properly portray them all in this single snippet of fanfiction.

But, either way, I did my best and I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and, my first time writing smut in forever and a day so...bear with me. x3

Daryan - 22  
Klavier - 22

--

Daryan exhaled a warm breath along his neck, guiding the blonde back into reality with a soft shudder at the ghost-like feel. He slipped away from the skin slowly, allowing his dark eyes to scan briefly over the blonde's facial features before his lips brushed softly over his. Klavier returned the notion almost desperately, afraid Daryan would pull away and leave him there with only that faint touch to sedate him. But he had never been one for games, particularly not the kind that were at the expense of his lover. Instead the detective moved forward, pressing solidly against him and reassuring Klavier of the door at his back.

Not five minutes ago had they walked through it when suddenly Daryan's lips were crashing against his. He had a natural ferocity in his kissing that it left both of them with flushed and tingling lips every time he pulled away. His intention seemed to nearly be an attempt at smothering Klavier but the heat was more healing than hurting. The coldness that had been seeping through his skin was obvious, like a darkness that had eclipsed the sun. There was nothing natural about it, not for the vibrant rocker at least. He forced that livid heat against him with where their bodies touched, urging it to absorb into his senses, coat his muscles and organs to shut down those defenses.

Before they were through he'd once again become more than a smiling face; Daryan was determined to reach that goal. And Klavier hated him tonight if only for making him feel like his scars and flaws were carried on a sign over his head - but Daryan was okay with that. He always was. He could shoulder the hatred if it would give Klavier somewhere to put it. Somewhere besides on himself.

- x -

"Kristoph!" Klavier wasn't really yelling so much as projecting his voice in a manner that could be heard over the bustling around them. His hand rose briefly into the air, gesturing to someone that Daryan couldn't see - which was irritating only because he was taller than Klavier and therefore should have been able to see just fine. But he attributed it to the fact he had no clue what he was looking for; he'd never met Kristoph Gavin.

"Come along," Klavier said, immediately reaching for Daryan's hand. The detective relinquished it, removing it from his hoodie pocket to place it in the other's waiting one, but he didn't do so without giving a frown.

"What do you mean 'come along'? He saw us, he can navigate the congestion just as well as we can," Daryan replied despite allowing himself to be lead through the throng of people that made him wish he had told Klavier to pick him up after meeting his brother at the station.

"He's closer to the door anyway."

"Yeah. The _wrong_ door," he pointed out, almost in disbelief, "You parked in the east lot, remember?"

But Klavier didn't grace him with an answer and instead released his hand to meet up with the person that was apparently invisible to Daryan; thankfully he wasn't that hard to make out in the dispersing crowd. It was when he saw him again, though, that he wanted to kick himself for being so completely blind. How had he missed Kristoph Gavin, who appeared to be little more than a slightly older, taller Klavier? He was expecting similarities but not a clone.

"Ah, bro, this is Daryan Crescend," Klavier said, motioning to him as he came into sight, "He's a detective with International Affairs."

"A pleasure," Kristoph said, his accent almost completely dissolved. Compared to Klavier who still spouted German words in daily life, he sounded like he could have been a native of the English language, "He's mentioned you quite a bit in our phone conversations. I suppose I should be thankful he has someone that's been able to tolerate him for so long."

It seemed like a joke but for some reason his laugh felt a bit strangled in his throat, like his body recognized something that his mind had missed. The sincerity of it was as detectible as Kristoph's accent, "Yeah, well, he's a good friend. You don't get a shot at those very often."

"Mm." His eyes scanned over Daryan with subtle scrutiny and the smile he put on after wards only served to make him look more bored. He was certain there was a hint of disappointment or disapproval but he'd been seeing looks like that all his life so it was hard to take offense or even notice them anymore. The brunette forced his attention back to Klavier.

"Daryan is the guitarist for the Gavinners." What should have been nothing more than a reminder _sounded_ like an excuse.

"I recall you mentioning it," Kristoph's tone was airy as he glanced around. His eyes held a dismissing, passive look before he smiled at Klavier, "Shall we go? I left Mr. Justice to run the office for me but there's still some work I need to finish."

Had he not been trying to find a cue card for his next action on Klavier's face, Daryan may never have noticed the slight recoil displayed only in his light blue eyes. It was as though he had said something completely stupid and Kristoph's words pointed it out not only to him but to the entire train station as well. He almost looked around to see if anyone was staring at them or laughing. They turned to head back to the car, the elder Gavin somehow leading the way, and he wordlessly what he'd missed and gave up trying to hold Klavier's unresponsive hand.

- x -

He pulled away from the other's lips, squeezing the hands he held against the wall softly in a minor compulsion to make sure the other was still with him. His forehead pressed to Klavier's, the blonde's pants of warm air making his lips tingle excitedly. Shifting, he pressed more of himself along the other and that disappearing chill forced him to shake something from his spine. Susceptible to the small tremor due to the closeness of their bodies, Klavier's fingers tightened between his knuckles as if to remind him of Daryan's movements being his as well.

The taller guitarist's knee pressed to the door between his legs and he lifted his head to find those lips again. First softly, Klavier's declined head bobbing slightly to try to increase the contact until he ran his tongue along them. They were warm, almost hot, under the touch. His teeth tugged on the lower one, guiding Klavier forward until they connected again.

There was no struggle for dominance between them; no set roles to be adhered to, no stereotypes to fill, nothing. Klavier kissed back with just as much fervor, his hands tightening in place of arm movement in a silent demand for it to continue. Kissing was little more than exploring familiar territory but there was always a new way to go about it. Now, the intensity with which he caressed Klavier's mouth seemed forceful in a new way. Attempting to drill something into him through the action alone and determined not to let either of them breathe until it was realized.

His eyes closed, hands tightening in response to the other's in some form of reassurance that hovered beyond his understanding. Promising that he was there, that he meant it, that he wouldn't hurt him; promising anything that Klavier needed promised to him to make him feel again. Their bodies were warm where they made contact, the heat once again distracting him to the point that he didn't pull away until his lungs were burning.

When his lips found Klavier's again he was still catching his breath, the oxygen escaping him as if he had just run five miles. Daryan's lips hovered against his so their movement could be felt when he exhaled soft words over the warm skin.

_"Nothing you say is stupid."_

- x -

It took at least an hour to find somewhere Kristoph was willing to eat that he hadn't read a bad review about or didn't have terrible service. The list of excuses went on and while Daryan was used to picky eaters, as he'd eaten out with Klavier plenty of times, something about Kristoph being so choosey grated on his nerves. Maybe it had to do with the way he 'kindly' shot down every suggestion and seemed amused in watching it crash and burn. After the fourth suggestion, he had begun to use an endearment with Klavier that made Daryan want to kick the back of his seat.

Being forced to sit in the backseat was also another level reached on his annoyance scale.

Eventually they found a place but Kristoph's agreement didn't come without a touch of disapproval. They had just put in their orders when Klavier dare approach another attempt at conversation.

"How is the office?"

"Fine," Kristoph replied, setting his glass of water back on the table, "Mr. Justice is turning into a fine attorney. I imagine you might have grasped the opposing side of law almost as quickly."

Daryan, who found it much more satisfying and less irritating to watch Klavier, noticed as his blue eyes briefly found his across the table and smiled faintly, "I feel the Prosecutor's Office is a better fit."

"Yes, the disorganization and peculiar methods of investigation are very fitting to your style," he smiled and his voice lifted lightly. It sounded like a joke to Daryan, one at the rocker's expense, but a joke all the same. A bit of protectiveness arose in him, aware of the sensitive edges surrounding Klavier's pride. He glanced over only to find that he had his smile and was attempted to hide it by taking a sip of water, "Quite like your latest album, in fact."

"You listen to our music?" Daryan couldn't hide the shock in his voice, even if he had bothered to try, and felt the heel of Klavier's boot dig into his foot for it. He flinched, more for Klavier's sake than any actual pain, and shrugged a bit as he leaned back in his chair.

"Certainly, though usually only once through. My little brother's idea of music is quite different from my own," he confirmed, "But he takes the time to drop off a copy so I'll always listen. His hobbies are-"

"Hobbies?" Daryan shot, "It isn't a hobby."

"Oh?" He adjusted his glasses, temporarily masking his eyes with their gleam from the sunlight, "And what makes you say that, Mr. Crescend?"

Klavier's foot applied a warning amount of pressure but Daryan chose to ignore it completely this time, "He's more alive on stage than anywhere else I've ever seen. _Hobbies_ don't create that kind of drive. It isn't like building model cars."

The pressure left his foot almost immediately but Daryan only spared a brief glance in the younger blonde's direction for it. He was watching Kristoph, waiting for some kind of reaction to let him know whether the defense had worked or not. It hadn't.

"They also don't last forever," he countered with smooth absolution. His attention returned to Klavier, "Did you have a bit of a cold during some of your recording sessions?"

"Not that I can remember," Klavier replied, sitting up just a bit straighter in his seat. The tension seemed to dissolve but Daryan was faintly aware that it was simply his tension with Kristoph that disappeared and the other forms didn't leave the air completely.

"I see," he said, sipping his water again. An unsaid '_unfortunate_' appeared over his head and drifted over to become a suffocating smog surrounding Klavier.

Subtly the rocker's hand moved up and his intent seemed to be to touch his throat but he deterred at the last minute. Fingers brushed through his bangs casually and his eyes now seemed to focus on that action rather than his brother, "Did my singing sound strange?"

"It might just be my ears," he assured, though his voice didn't incline that he really felt that way at all, "You were always more musically inclined than me, little brother."

The compliment seemed to fall on deaf ears.

- x -

He could feel Klavier's fingers bunch in the streamlined material of his hoodie when his mouth left the now red earlobe that he'd taken as his latest victim and moved down. Kisses littered the skin of his jaw line and the junction of his neck, some accompanied with the grazing of his teeth along the skin. The following moan vibrated under his lips and he pulled Klavier closer, giving the reassurance of a solid body against his with the ensuing tug.

They had found his bedroom now, awkwardly navigating the dark until Daryan bumped his foot on the wooden frame. It was unmade, the sheets twisted in his hand and he constantly had to shake them off. But the action felt like an illusion compared to the very real body under him that reacted welcomingly to the antics of his mouth.

His zipper pull snagged on Klavier's pendant with the closeness of their bodies but Daryan ignored it where Klavier could not. Familiar hands that trembled in a foreign display of weakness struggled with it and eventually the zipper slid down, leaving Daryan to wonder if he had broken it free by snapping the shark-tooth pull. He decided instantly that he didn't care; not right now.

Hands slid back up his abdomen and chest, pushing him away only so more of his skin could be explored in their roaming. They slid over his shoulders, hastily shoving the material away and exposing his lightly perspiring skin to the room's unforgiving air.

Teeth grated into Klavier's neck, pulling at the skin until it was as hot as the inside of Daryan's mouth. He moaned again, a tell to the sensitivity of the chosen area and a wordless urging for the guitarist to continue. Nails dug into his shoulders, short enough not to hurt but long enough to feel the pressure of them sending a message along his nerves straight to his brain only to have it tell his body what to do. Daryan shivered slightly with the sensation combined with the air tickling his slightly wet skin, pressing himself closer to Klavier when he did so. He ran his tongue over the mark once more and shook the blankets from his hand for the millionth time to run it up his side and along his back. It pressed into his lower back, pulling him up into an arch that the blonde supported by bending his leg slightly, giving Daryan an angle to press against his hips.

His lips pampered the skin surrounding the mark he had made, one that would suffice as a lingering reminder until Klavier had no choice but to accept it. He kissed the heated skin again, moistening it so when he exhaled it became suddenly cold - like the finish on a new coat of paint. The exhaled words against the bite made Klavier shudder softly; both unsure if it was the words themselves or the physical tingle the air from them that caused it.

_"There's nothing wrong with your voice."_

- x -

"Have you been eating well, Klavier?" Cool blue eyes lifted to meet a more steely, cold shade of their own. He seemed just as surprised by the question as Daryan who paused to clean his mouth of the meal's debris with a drink of his beer.

"No different than the usual care I place in my diet," he replied with an open smoothness that was enhanced by the smile that appeared.

"I hope so," Kristoph continued, crossing his legs in a gesture that Daryan was now sure stood as a pretext for something he had yet to decipher, "Between your chosen occupations, appearance certainly plays no small part."

"I'm aware," he defended. A bit too soon, Daryan noted, as a small smile that could easily be labeled 'triumphant' appeared on the elder brother's face.

"My, my," he chided, his voice edged with something resembling hurt, "No reason to put up your defenses, little brother. I was only worried on your behalf."

Klavier hesitated before reaching for his water, making sure it was firmly replaced on the table before speaking, "I appreciate your concern, Kristoph. Forgive my hasty response."

Daryan didn't believe it at first but the realization was more than happy to slap him in the face multiple times. Klavier _actually_ sounded like he was requesting forgiveness when he had done nothing but defended himself. Worse yet, it was a request to which Kristoph only replied with a delicate 'Mm' that cut the discussion abruptly.

"Excuse me," Klavier rose, setting his napkin down beside his plate and walking towards the bathroom. Daryan almost went after him but stopped when he couldn't come up with a reason why and felt like _both_ of them would request one. It occurred to him that he was worried but he didn't know where it came from or why it chose now to surface.

"Forgive him," Kristoph said, bringing Daryan' attention back to him, "His head seems to be in a different place today."

"Yeah, no joke," Daryan mumbled, eyes falling to Klavier's plate briefly, "He was fine this morning. No clue what got him wound so tight."

"It's best to let him sort it out for himself."

Daryan frowned and stood, now finding an entirely different verification for wanting to follow him, "I'll go check on him anyway."

He wasn't five steps from the table when Kristoph spoke again, "Do you and Klavier share a bed, Mr. Crescend?"

"I don't see how that's any of _your_ business," Daryan snapped, not turning around. He was used to defending his privacy against fans and felt no remorse in handling the Gavin the same way. People delving into his secrets was at the top of his list of aggravating things and he had punched both interviewers and reporters for it. It was safe to say he had earned the 'bad boy' title of the band amongst the media but all those people earned the hits they'd got.

Kristoph gave the kind of chuckle that Daryan had punched suspects in the face for, "Well, he is my little brother-"

"Yeah, I _got_ that."

Kristoph hesitated and Daryan felt the soft sting of a glare on his back that made his muscles tighten. He was sure the Gavin wouldn't have done anything and yet he felt like he should have been treating him like a dangerous criminal. They stood in silence until he eventually cleared his throat, "Klavier is my brother and I think it's safe to say who his partner is falls within my realm of interest on his behalf."

He grit his teeth, turning halfway towards where the elder brother had remained, unmoving, "Some nights more than others. Why?"

He smiled. "Nothing." Daryan could have thrown him farther than he believed him.

He intercepted Klavier on his way back to the table, hands finding his upper arms briefly to keep him from walking right passed. When he didn't get Klavier's attention immediately he tightened his hands softly and the blonde looked up, seeming to snap out of a haze, "Daryan?"

"Are you alright?" He met blue eyes and felt a slight tug in his chest at the unwelcome familiarity of the look in them.

"Fine." He smiled; but it had less emotion than a smile-faced poster.

- x -

Legs tensed around his waist, urging every shift of his hips to come faster than the previous one with more pressure. Klavier's hand was tangled in his over-processed hair, twisted to an almost painful point in the strands so the motions made Daryan flinch. He'd gotten over it now save for the occasional shift that caused a particularly vicious yank on his hair. The other hand gripped his shoulder, tightening with every thrust either to steady himself or to keep the motions going. He watched as the blonde pressed his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes tightly with the strain of his muscles and sensations running across his nerves.

A tug on his hair urged him down, addressing unexplored skin with fierce care making the brunette curved as much as his angle would allow. He could feel Klavier arching up into his exploring mouth as it littered his chest and shoulders with kisses and affectionate bites. The natural curves and small crevasses guided his lips, shifting his attention along as though the body beneath his was a river with a steady current. He followed the curve of his collarbone, tongue dipping into his clavicle and making Klavier curve his back further with a low moan.

Each bite was passionate and heated, lacking any timid hesitation as he claimed every inch of the hot skin. He decorated as much of the body beneath him as his spine permitted, the occasional painful tug unable to deter him save for the brief minute he went back up to the blonde's mouth. It was short, but emotions beyond sporadic lust surfaced in that brief contact between their mouths. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to Klavier's, even more lost for breath than he had began.

His lips moved back down but the replaced caresses were fleeting between the rest of his physical exertion. They skimmed the skin of his neck and sternum, hovering over the section of chest that encased his heart. He almost believed he could feel it despite the raging heartbeat in his own skull. But he wondered if maybe it had paused, if only for a second, when it felt his heavily exhaled words.

_"There's nothing wrong with the way you look."_

- x -

Two hours later they were standing on the same train platform they had been on that morning and it was just as crowded. Kristoph stood, one arm cradling another, looking at Klavier who stood squarely in front of him with his hands in his pockets. Daryan had hung back but not so far that he couldn't hear wisps of their conversation floating through the air.

"Perhaps if you plan further ahead…"

"I'll be sure to call sooner…"

"…fit your elder brother into your _busy_ schedule…"

"…never too busy…"

"…manage some personal time between the two of us."

"You don't like Daryan?"

"Oh, don't twist my words, little brother. I just feel we could do with a more personal session sometime. I can usually make time for my brother but-"

"Daryan?"

Somehow he had drifted close enough to be noticed. In hindsight he really should have been able to tell considering fragments had turned into full sentences.

"Lost track of my feet," he mumbled, turning to walk before Kristoph's voice once again caught him.

"Don't bother, Mr. Crescend," he smiled, "I do have a train to catch."

Daryan's gaze flicked towards the train, _Not for another fifteen minutes._ But he stepped close to Klavier, their arms brushing through the fabric of their clothes. His eyes didn't leave Kristoph but they didn't have to in order to feel the subtle, internal flinch at the contact.

"I'll call you soon, bro," he spoke up as Kristoph turned, his intent clear to leave without another word.

"I look forward to it." Another flinch; Daryan too could have swore he heard an unsaid phrase, '_I won't hold my breath_', under the clear words like a subliminal message.

Even in the simple, stunted contact where their arms touched he felt Klavier tense. In one look at his face, it was clear that Klavier wanted to say something but stopped. As he stared blankly at his brother's retreating form, Daryan slid an arm around his waist - fed up with the previous methods of contact that yielded no response.

- x -

The morning light was harshly muted by the thick, blue curtains of Daryan's bedroom. A body shifted slightly at his side and he rolled over, finding a hip under the blanket and pulling the figure closer against him. Lips tickled the back of the bare shoulder that peeked out from under the covers and he trailed his finger up the naked stomach before settling against the firm muscle. The other's hand moved down, covering his with a silent message to stay as its owner rolled over.

Daryan leaned forward, kissing Klavier with his usual intimacy before pulling away and trying to make out his features. He was faintly able to make out the other's face through the lingering haze brought on by inadequate lighting and saw a slight smile had pulled at his lips. The silence remained uninterrupted as he slid closer and the blonde's arms found the back of his neck. He fell onto his back pulling the blonde atop him and ignoring the tangle of sheets around them in favor of draping his arms over Klavier's back. His hands slipped up, running into that soft curve of his lower back and over his shoulder blades before sliding back down again.

His skin was still warm with life and expression, a comfort under Daryan's hands and against the skin of his chest. The usual drill in his hair had unfurled between last night's writhing and the sanctity of sleep. It tickled his chest where it fell over his shoulder, making Daryan abruptly aware of his own hair sticking uncomfortably to his back. He slid a hand up to pull the blonde strands away from the back of Klavier's neck, not daring to run his fingers through it in worry that they would get snagged and cause him pointless pain so soon after waking up.

They waited in comfortable silence for something to happen that would demand movement of them and signify the beginning of a new day. Nothing happened and the guitarist had just begun to doze when the form on top of him pushed the blankets back and slid out of bed. When Daryan next opened his eyes Klavier had already tugged on his dress shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he picked up the other articles of clothing from the floor - many of which were Daryan's. He folded his own over his arm, tossing the ones that belonged to the bedroom's owner overtop the messy covers. Only when he was satisfied (it was a tired, half-satisfied, really) did he walk back over and press his lips to Daryan's once more.

It was a silent but sure '_thank you_' as the blonde left the room, leaving the door open slightly so the sounds of his shuffling and the bathroom door closing could be heard. Daryan folded his hands behind his head, watching the light glow from beyond the curtains that served as a blindfold against the world. His mind stayed clear until he heard the running of water for a shower through the walls of his room, confirming what he had assumed to be Klavier's plan all along. He closed his eyes, listening to be sure the shower would be enough noise that Klavier couldn't hear him think.

For all reasoning, it was stupid to wait because the blonde couldn't read minds anyway. But something about this particular thought felt heavy, weighted down with how personal it was. He could picture the expression on Klavier's face and the argument to follow it as he sat up, pulling the clothes from the end of the bed to drop them lazily into the basket near his closet. It was a look he would rather never have to face in those blue eyes and an argument he'd prefer never to hear.

'_I just wish my opinions counted half as much as his._'

He thrust his foot into the basket, mashing the dirty clothes down to make room for more the next time his room was cleaned up. No. That was one thought that no amount of chiding or playful banter would get out of him, one that he would keep even in the most intense arguments when Klavier had him so frustrated he wanted to lash out with everything hurtful in his arsenal. The lingering betrayal of that truthful thought was an interesting burden to bear but it was far lighter than the self-loathing he would feel based on the facial expression of Klavier's reaction alone.


End file.
